GOT Season 8 Re-Write
by nickgnagi
Summary: Did you hate how Game of Thrones ended? Me too. I decided to try to give people the epic ending that we deserved. With real character development, mystery, tension, and grandiosity that we learned to love from the GOT universe.
1. Prologue

**Sansa**

It had been months since Jon had left Winterfell to beg of aid from the Mother of Dragons. The thought still left a bad taste in Sansa's mouth. Jon had already left his home to take the black and he had served his duty. He did not need to leave again. In the coming war, the North needed their leader more than anything, they needed their King.

Sansa had been doing her best to fill Jon shoes. She asked the allied houses for aid in which way she could; Wood from house Ironsmith, who's ironoak trees grew tall and prolific, smoked meats from house Hornwood and house Lake, and soldiers from any peoples house whos hands where big enough to wield iron. Sansa had little experience with war, even less with the dead, but she knew if they had any chance to survive, every resource counted. Every life counted.

Sansa walked along the wooded walkways of Winterfell, carefully watching over her people. The metal clanks of hammers on the dragonglass filled the silence with the smell of burning coals and cold. The Northerners were not a fearful people but you could see their unease. There were no smiles, no chatter. Just a stoic sense of obligation. The people knew what was coming, or at least had an idea. They knew that their lives and the lives of their families and houses may be ending soon. The long histories of the Mormonts and Hornwoods and Starks could be erased by what was to come. The North shivered for the first time since the First Men.

As she watched she saw Maester Wolkan approach in a hushed manner. Sansa could tell something was wrong but she withheld. "Lady Stark," Maester Wolkan said, bowing slightly in his robes, the sound of metal clanging softly as he did so.

"Maester, what news do you bring?" Sansa replied coolly.

"House Hornwood says they will be able to supply four barrels of salted carp and two of hog." the Maester said in a rather flat tone.

"That's good to hear, what of the men?" Sansa asked scanning Wolkan. She knew she wasn't going to like his answer when she saw how the corner of his mouth twitched before he spoke.

"Well... They've said they can only provide thirty men." Maester Wolkan said nervously. Sansa caught herself holding her breath for only a moment, resuming her breath back to normal before the Maester could even notice.

"We will accept thirty, will they need iron or will they provide their own?" Sansa asked calmly.

"They did not specify."

"Very well, do you bring any other news?"

"Yes, your brother Jon has sent word from Kingslanding. I have his letter right here." Did he not think to tell me this first?

"I'll have the letter, thank you," Sansa said, grasping the letter, unfurling it in anticipation.

_To the Warden of the North_

_ Queen Cersei has agreed upon a temporary truce to help in the war to come. When she saw the dead move, she swore that she would lend her strength to fight for the living. Queen Daenerys will be coming to Winterfell to prepare for the coming war with us._

_ Be well sister,_

_ J.S_

Jon your heart may be good but it is also to easily deceived. Sansa knew Cersei, she knew she would never risk her position to help her enemies, even if she died for it. Lanisters don't care for the lives of men, they only care for the lives of Lanisters, and not even all Lanisters. How could he be so naive after everything he's seen? How could he believe her after what her family did to our father? The only thing Jon and the Dragon Queen have done is to tell our enemies that we'll be weakened soon.

"You will need to tell the blacksmiths to double their current production using half dragonglass and half iron. Make sure they are well fed, they will take priority over everyone, even myself. And inform Brienne to work with the carpenters on the south road. I want barricades and spikes made of ironwood stretching as far out as we can get them." Sansa commanded in her cool tone.

A confused look plastered Maester Wolkans face as a choked noise bubbled to the surface. He cleared his throat before he spoke. "B-but my Lady, the dead are coming from the North," He said.

"This isn't for the dead."

Sansa hated strolling through the Godswood as much as her mother had. The cold silence left her with an uneasy feeling that she had never grown accustomed to. She was a summer child, and while she could bare the cold of Winterfell and the North, not the Godswood. But she knew she would find Bran here. He liked to sit and stare at the weirwood, pondering over his visions. Sansa didn't envy Bran, she knew what it was like to live in the past, and she had to become the woman she is today to break free of that curse. Seeing her father beheaded by command of her betrothed, losing her Mother and Brother to Walder Frey, trapped and tortured by the Lannisters and Ramsy. Sansa used to shutter at the thought of Joffery and shook at the thought of Ramsy. She had to learn not to shake, not to cry at the memories of her bruises or weep at the thought of Ramsy's defilement of her. She had to learn to turn those memories into strength. This was her duty, her people needed her, she could not break. She could not be the stupid girl who wanted everything, she needed to become the women her mother knew she could be. So she turned her vile treatment into iron and forge her memories into wisdom.

As expected, Bran stared at the weirwood, his eyes blank and lifeless. Sansa feared for her brother when she saw him like this; what if he became lost in the past? She could not bear to lose another brother. Sansa approached him softly, giving his coarse brown hair a single stroke. Minutes passed in the silence before Bran came back from his vision, his eyes returning to his normal stoic brown. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Bran said in his flat tone.

"That's okay," Sansa replied with a hint of sadness in her voice.

"What would you like to know Sansa?" Bran asked.

Sansa hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to communicate with this new Bran she was still getting to know. She took a deep breath."Well, I've been running the North in Jon's stead."

"Yes, you're a good leader. The people respect you," Bran said.

"They respect Jon," She corrected, letting her normal formal tone falter in front of her little brother. "I hear the mumbling from the Northerners about being lead by Lady Stark. They would rather have their King. Jon should be here."

"Jon is doing what he thinks is right, and you are doing what is needed for our people," These words were the only warmth Sansa felt in the Godswood. Bran may be the Three-eyed Raven, whatever that means, but in moments like these, she could still hear her brother, little Bran full of hope. Still, the warmth of his words was not enough to drown the dread Sansa felt in the pit of her stomach.

"But will it be enough? If the armies of the dead are truly as big as you and Jon say they are, we won't have enough men or resources to fight them. Even if we do win the war, Cersei will be at our heels ready to slit our throats now that she knows what we'll be facing. Tell me Bran, and be honest, do we stand a chance? Will our family be safe?" Sansa asked, desperation glinting in her eyes. Bran remained silent for a while, the winds whipping through the Godswood like a dark omen.

"I don't know. The past is easy to see but the future is fickle and a hard thing to predict. I don't know the fate of men," Bran stated. As hard as Sansa fought, tears still began to well in her eyes.

"Then why did you do this to yourself, Bran? Why do you live in the past if you can't tell us what to do?" Sansa pleaded.

"That's what I've been searching to find out. I've been looking for a way to put an end to the Night King but it is difficult for me to search without him finding me first. We know of the dragonglass and Valyrian steel but the Night King keeps his weaknesses well hidden. I am sorry, I am looking," Bran said, his voice monotonic and flat. Sansa let one more tear fall before she composed herself.

"It's okay brother, we'll find a way," Sansa said, her voice returning to normal.

"Perhaps. I do have other news." Bran said.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

"It's about Jon."


	2. Chapter 1 - Jon

**JON**

Jon stood in the frozen expanse of the north, encircled by the corpses of his allies. His furs dangled off of him ripped, tattered, and sticky with blood that burned as it turned to frozen crystals on his flesh. Jon staggered, finding it difficult to find his footing as he drew sharp cold breaths that stung in his chest like needles. He had no strength, he had nothing.

The faces of his allies stared at him blankly as the whipping snow began to bury them. Torrmund, Gendry, Clegane, Beric, Breinne, Sam; All of them lifeless with vacant expressions, the red of their blood staining the frost around them. Each face that Jon took in made it harder to breathe. He gasped for air with throaty breaths as his mind and body tortured him. The living had lost.

The sight of his sisters made Jon fall to his knees as they gave him the same blank stairs as the rest of his comrades. He needed to get to them, he needed to save them but his legs refused to hold weight. He let go of longclaw and began to dig his hands into the frozen ground, pulling forward with all of his might. He let out loud grunts as he struggled to pull himself forward, his body revolting against him. His lungs heaved, spit spurting from his mouth as he desperately clawed his way forward. Not them, his mind would scream, anyone but them. _I just need to get to them. They'll be okay if I get to them. They'll be safe. I'll protect them. I will. I have to. _

Jon cried out, mustering all of his strength with one last pull. He continued his throaty grunts as his head laid on Arya's boot. He could feel the wet snow and mud in his hair, as he felt the cold from his sister's body. "Arya!" Jon yelled as he lifted his body to see her. She stared right at him with the same lifeless eyes as his companions, her hand draped softly in Sansa's. Jon wept at their stares, knowing that he would never see the color in their eyes again. How could he have let this happen? How could he have failed? Jon pounded his fists against the frozen earth as he cried out from his loss. He could feel the hot tears freezing to his face, burning his flesh.

Blurry-eyed, Jon lifted his head to see that his companions had risen. They surrounded him, encircling around him as he grieved. Alliser Thorne stood in the distance side by side with the Night King, his crystal blade to a silver-haired woman's throat. "Dany!" Jon shouted as she knelt silently except for her staggering breath. Jon scrambled forward, desperately trying to stand but his body refused. He plummeted to the ground over and over as he called out to Dany. He needed to stand, he could save her if he could just stand but he could only manage to make it to his knees.

Jon and Dany stared at each other across the frozen field, desperate and afraid. Jon shifted his gaze to the Night King who smiled as he dragged his blade slowly across Dany's throat. Jon shuttered as he saw fire pour from Dany into the snow. He grabbed his own throat as frozen chunks of blood poured from him. Alliser Throne was in front of him, holding a dagger of glass that had become stained red with Jon's blood. His body thumped to the ground as his life exited his body.

Jon woke in a sweat, jolting upwards in the dark. "What is it? What's wrong?" Dany asked in a panic. Jon furiously looked around the moonlit cabin until he found the silhouette of Dany. Reaching out for her in the darkness, he could feel the heat of her skin as it radiated off of her like the hot coals of fire, melting his frozen veins. He could smell the slightly sweet spice of her perfume, slowly returning his rapid breath back to a steady rhythm.

"It was only a dream, I'm okay," Jon said, his gravelly voice supporting a twinge of shakiness. His hands stuck to Dany, cementing him in reality.

Dany eyed him cautiously, stroking his long curly hair, continuously filling Jon with her warmth."You dreamed of the dead?" She asked in a soft, knowing voice. Jon felt embarrassed like he was the little boy who wandered the halls of Winterfell again.

"Aye, I'm sorry," Jon said, shifting uncomfortably "I didn't mean to worry you."

"I would be worried if you weren't scared, Jon. Remember, I've seen them too. You aren't the only one who has the dead invade their sleep," Dany slid her fingers from Jon's hair to his face, giving him a warm caress before getting up and looking out the cabin window. "I dream of them too and terrible dreams they are. I can still see Viserion, plummeting from the sky," her voice began to stagger, and her hands clasped together over her bare chest as she continued in a near whisper. "I could feel it. I could feel that spear plummet right into his gentle heart. I could feel as the ice took him. I felt his fire smothered." Dany looked back at a silent Jon Snow, giving him a weak smile as her eyes gleamed with opalescent tears. "He was the kindest of all my children; So sweet, so curious. Whenever we traveled by boat he would always dive into the water just to see what was down in the depths. Occasionally, he would just swim beneath our ships, and we would rock as his scales scratched us from below." She said chuckling at the memory until her lip began to quiver. "I never knew how hard it would be to lose a child. It's a constant ache that I can never seem to shake. The pain is too much to bear sometimes." She said as she let out soft sobs. Jon moved the furs from the bed and approached her placing his rough hands on her soft cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Jon said softly. "He didn't deserve to die. I never should have put you, any of you, in that kind of danger. I was reckless." Dany's expression softened, her ache slowly melting away. "I just needed them to see. I needed everyone to understand that if we don't unite, if we don't stand together, that there is no hope. We will only survive if men put their pride aside, toss away past grudges and claims and titles, and fight for the living. I don't want to lose what little is precious to me in the world. I don't want to lose my sisters or my queen." Jon said, tilting Dany's face to press his lips to hers. He could taste the salt from her tears and felt her grief as their bodies pressed together.

Dany wrapped her arms around Jon, burying her head in his chest. "I don't want to lose anymore either. All those years back in Essos, back before I became Queen, back before I had my dragons, I was alone. The only person I had in the world was my brother and he made me feel more alone than anyone else. He would take us from town to town, begging for food and coin, claiming that he was the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. I never had a home and I was groomed to be sold to whoever had the biggest army. I was only thirteen when I was married to Khal Drogo and became the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. It was supposed to give my brother an army, to give The Dragon the strength to reclaim the throne but it gave me strength instead. For the first time, I felt like I belonged somewhere like I could make a difference. I got my children by standing amid the fire, and as time went by I gained allies. Trusted allies who I could call friend. Messandei. Grey Worm. Ser Jorah. Even Tyrion and his jokes have grown on me." She said with a chuckle, causing Jon to give a soft smile. "And now I've found you. Jon Snow, the man who would give up his title to protect the realm of men. I never thought I would love somebody as I love you. And I never thought I would be as afraid as I am to lose it all." She gripped Jon tighter, as he held her head to his chest.

They stood there naked, embracing each other silently with nothing but lapping waves and the occasional creak of the boat to fill the night. Jon had only been vulnerable like this with Yigritte before. Dany had Yigrittes fire but she had something more. She was kind yet powerful, brash yet wise. He would never know how a bastard could ever be so lucky.

Minutes passed before Jon broke the silence. He spoke in almost a whisper, "I won't let anything happen to you. I love you Dany and I will give my life to protect everyone."

"I don't want you to give your life," Dany said. "I want you to live, and be by my side as I take the Iron Throne." Jon hesitated.

"It wouldn't be the first time I gave up my life to protect the people I cared about." Dany pulled away to look at a sheepish Jon Snow.

"What do you mean?" Dany asked curiously. Jon didn't know if it was a good idea to tell her but he needed to now.

"Back when I was Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, I realized that the only way for everyone to survive was to unite as a single people. The more we fought amongst ourselves, the stronger the dead became. So, I decided to do something no Lord Commander had ever done before. I let the Wildlings into Castle Black and struck an alliance with them." Jon said.

"That's an amazing accomplishment, Jon. But what does that have to do with giving your life?" Dany asked.

"No alliance is perfect. Not everyone can look past their anger and resentments for the greater good. There will always be the people who turn that fury towards the people who decided to forge the alliance. I could feel that resentment pointed at me, I could feel the icy stares of my brothers as I walked through Castle Black. I thought their minds would change with time. If only they could see that the Wildlings were just people like us, just trying to survive." Jon turned away from Dany, gazing out into the splashing waves. "One night, this boy I had been looking after named Olly, came to me claiming that one of the Wildling's had seen my uncle Benjin and knew of his whereabouts. I followed him outside to be met by men of the Nightswatch, brothers of mine who believed me a traitor to the Watch." Jon took a deep breath. "They killed me Dany. One after another, they plunged daggers into me, saying that they were doing it for the Watch." Jon leaned against the wooden wall of the cabin as Dany placed her hand on his back. "And Olly... I never would have expected it from him. I guess that's why he was the one to grab me." Jon turned around to face Daenerys and he placed her hand over the jagged scar over his heart. "I know what it's like to die for the good of the people I care about. It hurt to be betrayed by my brothers, by all the people I had served side by side with for years, but if I had to do it all over again, I would."

Silence filled the room again. Jon felt a lump in his throat as he leaned against the wooden pillar. The memory stung; he didn't like to relive that night. He'd never spoken of it before to anyone. Not like this. Not in detail. Jon could still remember their faces, the quiet determination they had as their blades slid between his ribs. He could remember his lungs failing him as he gasped for breath. Jon's eyes pooled with silent tears as the memory flashed in his mind over and over. Killed by the men he called brother... Even after death, it hurt him.

Jon didn't even hear Dany approach him. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her head against his naked back. Jon could feel the heat of her body and it warmed his heart, taking his mind away from that cold night. She slid her hand over his scars, acknowledging each of his previous wounds, letting out a deep breath with each touch. He could feel the heat of her tears as she shared his pain.

Jon turned to face Dany once again, their eyes locked in the moonlit cabin. "I don't want to die again, but I will if I have to. I will die to protect the people I love." Jon said. Dany stared at him, a mixture of sadness and understanding dancing in her eyes. She wrapped her arms behind his head and pulled him in for a long kiss as their bodies pressed against each other. They made their way back under the covers without a word and without letting go of one another.

Clouds filled the overcast sky the next day. The closer they got to Winterfell the colder it became and the harder it was to sail. They were only a day or so away from White Harbor and soon Jon would be reunited with his family.

Jon stood out on the deck, watching Drogon and Rhaegal as they glided above. He would be lying if he said he wasn't scared of the dragons but it was amazing to watch them. Their scales were tough as rock and sharp as knives but they also gleamed when the sun shone on them. And the size of them; they were so massive, each flap of their wings could be heard half-a-mile away.

A decent sized wave smacked the side of the ship, spraying Jon lightly with the sea. His nose filled with the smell of salt. "I would advise caution, Jon Snow, best not to become ill before we are greeted by the dead," Tyrion said as he made his way over.

Jon flashed him a Northerner's smile, "Don't worry about me, faced much colder than this North of the wall."

"Ah yes, I've heard the most dangerous thing for men of the Night's Watch isn't the Wilding's or the dead, but the cold. Temperatures so cold that if a sworn brother actually did find a woman to procreate with, his cock would freeze off before he could even get it in. I suppose that's why they make you swear that ridiculous oath. The Night's Watch can't be made up entirely of eunuchs, people would just think of them as a cult." Tyrion said with a devilish smile. Jon tried to resist but he let out a small chuckle. "A joke that actually made the King of Brooding laugh? Either, you have a story about a certain Night's Watch member that I must hear immediately, or you've had an incredibly good night. Which is it?" Tyrion asked, eyeing him with scrutiny.

Jon leaned down to Tyrion and said in a hushed tone, "Both."

"I never met a bastard who surprised me as much as you! Now, tell me stories of frozen cocks and dissatisfied lovers." Tyrion said excitedly.

"I'll tell you all about it after we defeat the Night King," Jon said. Tyrion sighed but quickly returned to his pleasant demeanor.

"Another reason not to die in the coming war. I'm building an arsenal of reasons to live. It's too bad you can't kill a White Walker with sheer determination, I would be a war hero. They would write songs about me. Tyrion and the ballad of lost manhood. On second thought, I don't think I would enjoy that song very much." Jon wanted to laugh but he couldn't. He couldn't shake the dread he felt from his dream last night.

"Do you think Cercei will fight with us? Do you think she was telling the truth?" Jon asked. Just then Jon could hear the shouts of 'Land!' from atop the crow's nest. He turned and looked past the bow to see White Harbor in the distance. Jon wanted to feel relieved but his mind was still on Cercei.

Tyrion dropped his pleasant demeanor and let out a sigh, "I'm not sure if Cercei will keep her word. Logically, it would be the right move for Cercei. No point in ruling the Seven Kingdoms if there isn't a Seven Kingdoms to rule. It would show the people that she was willing to protect them at risk to herself. They would shower her with praise and rally behind her." Tyrion said looking out into the ocean, "On the other hand, she has never seen how many dead there are, doesn't care about the people, and could be looking at this as a great opportunity to have her enemies killed for her. It's a coin toss."

Jon's brow furrowed, "Then was it right to ask her to fight with us? We can't be fighting the dead and the Lannister army at the same time." Jon said, anger bubbling to the surface.

"Well, we'll have excellent cannon fodder if the Lannister army decides to show at the gates of Winterfell. If they decide to attempt a coup while we're battling the dead, I believe they'll become preoccupied rather quickly. I don't think the dead care too much about who they kill, and it's much easier to kill someone in an open field, rather than someone in a castle. When word of the dead travels South, the people will hate Cercei even more and will praise Danerys, the Mother of Dragons, the saver of Westeros. It's a win-win." Tyrion said smugly.

"Win-win's aren't much of a coin toss," Jon said.

"They are when both sides are heads."


End file.
